Newspaper Page Text
NOVEM B E R.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER. (From the Atlantic Magazine.) Talk not of sad November, when a day Of warm clad suushiu-i fills the sky of noon. And a wind, borrowed from some morn of June, Stirs the brown grasses and the leafless spray. On the unfrosted pool tho pillared pines Bay their long shafts of shadow; the small nu, Singing a pleasant song of Summer still, A line of silver, down the biH-slope shines. Hashed the bird-voiess and the hum of bees, In the thin grass the crickets pipe no more; But still the squirrel boards his Winter store. And drops his nut-shells from the shagbark trees. Softly the dark green hemlocks whisper; high Above, the spires of yellowing larches show, Where the woodpecker and home-loving crow And jay and nut-batch Winter’s threat defy. <9 gracious beauty, ever new and old ! Q pights and sounds of nature, doubly dear When the low sunshine warns the closing year Of snow-blown fields and waves of Arctic told ! Qpso to my heart I fold each lovely thing The sweet day yields; and, not disconsolate. With the calm patience of the woods I wait For leaf and blossom when God gives us Spring ! TRACKIXO A BURGLAR. BY AN ENGLISH EX-DETECTIVE. CHAPTER I. THE BUIKILABY AT HIGHGATE. Burglary and attempted murder I That was the charge. The burglar had escaped, and the task of capturing him was given to me. It did not prove such a hard task as I expected it to be when I had heard only the first report, but it was enough to try a man’s nerve before all was over. w “ There’s not much to go upon, Crinly, said tho chief of our department, when he was put ting me upon tho case. “You must go out there, and 1 have no doubt you’ll make some thing of the matter.” That was a compliment, and it was very pleas ant to hear it from the chief, and I immediately went “ out there.” The house was in a very retired road at High gate. When the door was opened to me, I ask ed to see Mr. Bowles, and that gentleman made liis appearance in a very short time. I had only to intro luce myself as Mr. Crinly, detective, called to make inquiries concerning the robbery and tho murderous assault, to in euro a very cordial reception. “The rascal has not le t even a footmark be hind to trace him by I” exclaimed tho injured Mr. Bowles soon alter he had conducted me in to tho parlor. “ Mon who follow such lines of business sel dom do,” I said. “ But perhaps I shall be able to trace some of the stolen property. If Ido that, I dare say I con run down tho thief. Let me see the place where you were attacked, please.” I waS’Conducted up the stairs and into a pas sage or lobby which ran from the back of the house to a door leading into a front bedroom. There was a door on each side of this passage, each giving admittance to another bedroom. Tvrosmtvlloi- doors belonged to closets, in which a variety of things, not in immediate use, were deposited from time to time. “ This is where I caught the villain,** said Mr. Bowles, planting hie foot firmly on the carpet aear one of the bedroom doors. “This is my bedroom, you see,” he continued. “I retired lor the night about eleven o’clock, but I had not gone to bed. I put on a dressing-gown and sal down to write a couple of letters. I thought I might come home and smoke a pipe with Mr. Ainger if he should come home before I had lain down. Welt, I wrote my letters, and I was sitting near the fire thinking of friends in Aus tralia, and one thing and another,when I heard a sound out here that drew my attention. I lis tened intently a few seconds, when I distinctly heard a low, rustling noise, that appeared to come from that closet, in which my boxes are laid. I got up then, and going to the door lightly I suddenly threw it open. There stood the oloset door wide open, and a big fellow on his knees, with a small dark lantern on a box beside him, busily turning out the contents of a leather trunk in which 1 had a large sum of money, and several gold and silver nicknacks . <of some value.” “ Did you not seize him while you had such an opportunity ?•’ I asked. “I seized him. sir, but I missed the oppor tunity while he was kneeling,” he replied, as if the recollection made him angry with himself. “The moment I threw the door open the villain sprang to his feet like a flash. I gave a shout and attempted to grapple with him, when he actually threw himself into my arms. But I soon found I could not keep him there without a struggle. He is a big, powerful fellow. He tried to throw me, but 1 have learned enough of rough wrestling to be able to hold my ground pretty well. Our struggling made enough noise to awaken everybody in the house. I heard the front door bang loudly; Mrs. Ainger—my sister, sir—ran from her room screaming, and met her husband at the top of the stairs. Then the fel low loosed hie hold of me, and, as quick as thought, a great sheath-knife like a dagger flashed before my eyes. The robber stabbed at my face, but I was quick enough to avoid the blow, and the point of the weapon sank deep into the frame of the door behind me. Thers is the hole it made.” As he spoke the last words ho pointed to a deep, broad gash in the wood, which only a blow Of great force could make. ‘•Did not the assistance of Mr. Ainger enable you to overpower the man ?” I asked. “No, sir. If we had overpowered him, I should not want your assistance in finding him. I was much more overpowered. The fellow wrenched himself away before Ainger could reach us. He sprang along the passage and down the stairs in about two strides, and was out through the window of the back kitchen and lost sight in less time than I require to tell you fio. Mr. Ainger found a policeman and told him; then he went off to the station, which is a pretty long step from this place, and when he came back I was busy examining my trunk and find ing out what I had lost. I had a lantern, a screw-driver and a pocket knife left in place of more than a hundred pounds in sovereigns and notes, and a black leather case that contained a watch, two diamond rings, and some gold orna ments for a watch chain. A few other things of less value wore taken too.” “Are all who were in the house last night at homo now ?” I asked, when Mr. Bowles had con cluded the story of his adventure. “I suppose all are in the house except one— and you know I wish I had him here just now,” he replied, accompanying the latter words with a grim smile. I told him I desired to see only the servants who slept in the bouse. I did not wish that any alarm should be excited among them, as if they were suspected. They might be called, together or separately, while be showed mo the way by which the robber had escaped. Mr. Bowles at first protested that neither of the girls in the house could knew so much about the affair as he did, but consented to speak to Mrs. Ainger ou the point, who settled the matter as 1 de sired. My walk through the house, from the bedroom floor to tho back kitchen, produced no addition to my knowledge. I looked over the little kitch en garden, on which the window opened, but without making any useful discovery. The wall at tne end of the garden was nearly eight feet in hight. There was a door in it which opened on a narrow lane formed by nothing but garden walls ou both sides through its entire length. “Did tbe burglar escape by that door?” I asked. *• No, sir. The door was bolted when we came to it. He must have scaled the wail.” “ But tho wall is high for a big, heavy-bodied man to scale so quickly ?” I said. “ Yes, he was big, and he must have been as supple as a monkey. But that is the only way by which he can have gone,” replied Mr Bowles, confidently. “ It is odd, and hardly to be credited,” I said, “ but we must accept tbe fact, it seems.” While in the garden, and speaking of the burglar, I bad secretly, but very closely, scanned tho face of the housemaid who was with us. She was tall, and decidedly pretty, while in her form and face there was an air of intelligence and refinement greater than is to be found in all girls of her class. But there was also a pained and troubled ex pression on her features. That might be set down to a number of causes wholly foreign to the business I was then engaged in, but it ex cited my curiosity not the less. When Mr. Bowles mentioned the size and agility of the robber who had escaped on the preceding night. I noticed that the troubled expression ot her face became deepened. Why was that? Detectives are accused ot hastily arriving at conclusions, and I at once suspected very strongly tint there was some kind of connec tion between the robber and the thoughts then current in her mind. Our inspection ot the garden being finished, I intimated to Mr. Bowles that I wished to press my inquiries further with the housemaid and her fellow-servant. “ I suppose you must do what you think nec essary to forward the ends of justice,” he said ■“ but I must ask you to be careful in your questioning. The young lady you call house maid is really the friend and companion of my sister, though she fills a servant’s place. She stands even higher in my opinion than in »y sister’s, and I would rather my money should be lost and the thief go free than that her feel ‘ugs should be hurt in connection with the mat- I satisfied Mr. Bowles that I know the proper deference that should be shown to a young lady, whereupon he left me to use my discre tion. Tho young lady in question did not trv to avoid the interview I desired. A lew leading questions elicited all the information she could rive, but her story was so intorostiug and so Important to me iu its bearing on tho case, that 1 must give the substance of it hero as briefly is I can. “I did look troubled when I heard the rob ,,’ r . wa ? a bl « and powerful man, and I will tell , ab ® aaid - "Two days ago a man a P ed boro to see me. He is a big, powerful almJrn ‘ know what 116 ma ? b ® doin « now, nrnL m 6 I y ,® ar , a ago he bor ® a Tor* bad h^! l ’<.i,? lr^ ewlea ’ a description ot the rob ber brought him strongly to mind, and I tliougfit k ® might possibly bo tho man ” “Are you acquainted with this man?-do vou know him intimately ?” 1 asked uo you “Ch, no.” she replied shrinkingly. “Before he called here I bad not seen him for more than three years. Then he was a bad man. My brother kept, his company, and they committed some crime together., io-r wh ch my brother is etill in prison. This man was the principal offender, iam sure, but ho escapeed punish ment.” “ Why did he call upon you ?” “1 don’t know why; and that has made me most uneasy since the robbery last night. He actually mentioned the rich Australian gentle man who was staying in tho house. W hen 1 saw him I could not stand at the door spealnng to such a man as I ’had known him to be. But I did not send him away directly—l did not like to make him angry, because ho might cause a disturbance. When he said ho wanted a lew words in private with me, I thought no had some news of my brother, and I turned into the little spare kitchen with him.” “ ‘ I only called to see how you were getting on, Mary,’ he said. ’Somehow, I’d been think ing ot you as poor Tom Drew’s sister, and 1 thought I’d come. There’s no offense, I hope. 1 see you’ve grown a lady. I don’t suppose 111 never make a gentleman, you kxow, Mary; but I’ve turned over a new leaf, and I’ll try to get money till I grow as rich as that Australian gent that’s living in the house now. It s prime to work where they dig gold by the shovelful. A little of that precious stuff would bo useful to poor folks here—wouldn’t it, Mary ? And they d still have plenty more than they could spend, 11 they did share a bit.’ • “Tho man touched me on the arm, and 1 shrank from him—for though he spoke pleas antly, there was something in the half-leering expression of his face that made me dislike and fear him. I think he know that, because he be came less familiar at once. He then began to praise the house—so many floors, so many rooms, and actually two sets of stairs ! Ho left soon, to my great relief; but be had gained some information about the house and the people by his seemingly careless remarks and indirect questions.” “ What you have told me may be of great ser vice, miss,” I said. “ I must ask you to give me this strange fellow’s name.” “I am sorry I cannot do that. 1 don t know his name. I never heard it, that I can remem ber,” she replied. “ Well, that is unfortunate. But you say it is about three years since he was implicated in some crime for which your brother suffered ? W’hat is your brother’s name ?’’ "James Drew,” she replied, in a low voice, which made me think she did not like to speak the tainted name aloud. I thanked her, and immediately went to Mr. Bowles, from whom I obtained a more particu lar description of the several articles he had lost, in addition to tho money. CHAPTER 11. HE WOULD NOT BET, BUT WAS BEATEN. On re'oriing to a file of papers published three years before the robbery at Highgate, I learned that James Drew and Matthew Brown had been charged with complicity in au exten sive swindling fraud. James Drew had been sentenced to five years’ penal servitude, but Matthew Brown had been acquitted because the evidence was not sufficiently clear against him. I did not doubt that this Matt Brown was the man who had visited Mary Drew. He was a big, powerful fellow, who was seldom to be seen without a pleasant smile on his face, which was genial and good-tempered enough to sug gest that he would not hurt a child, and was the last man likely to engage in desperate orime. Yet he was known to be an offender against tho law, though not by proceedings in which the lives as well as the money of the more Uw-abiding were placed in jeopardy. Matt Brown was known to many members of the force, and I was one of the number. But I had no reason to think he knew me, simply be cause my professional duties had not caused me to appear very often in the localties where he was best known. Ho was a sporting man in his own way. He was an acknowledged au thority on dog-fights and ratting-matehes. He was learned in the pedigrees of racehorses, and could so justly estimate the powers of each on comparison of their past performances, that he was said to make more money by judicious betting than two or three ordinary men could earn. Indeed, he found the hotting business so lucrative that he had decided to “make a book ”on his own account—that is, to lay ths current rate of odds against each ot the horses engaged in a race. His patrons seldom invested more than a shilling on the chance of any one horse, and Matt would not give the odds against more than five shillings in any single bet. Matt’s acquaintances were very numerous. They were very miscellaneous in chaaacter, too, but consisted chiefly ot young novices in wrong-doing, and those who were experienced sinners and almost irreclaimably bad. We have to mix with people ot very queer reputation at times, and I lost no time in seeking tbe ac ' quaintaneo of Matt Brown. A certain public house near’Drury Lane was recognized as Matt’s headquarters between the hours of twelve in the morning and four in the afternoon. When he was not seen at the cor ner outside, or at the public bar within, ho was certain to bo found in the plain and sparely furnished little smoke-room regaling himself with a pipe and a glass of “ toddy.” I dressed for tho occasion one day, and went to the public house in question. I asked at the bar whether I could see Mr. Brown, and the potman stared me very searchingly a moment or two before he spoke. My sedate appear ance, with silk hat and umbrella, appeared to puzzle him, but he slowly answered: “ I daresay he’s in the smoking-room. Did you say bitter, sir?” he added, seizing one of the upright pump-handles and holding a glass in readiness. “ Not just now,” I said, turning to a door on which the word “ Smoking ’’ was painted. Matt Brown was the only person in the room when I entered. Advancing, 1 took off my hat, and bending a little, said: “You are Mr. Brown, the bookmaker, I be lieve ?” “ I m Matt Brown, guvnor, right enough, but I don’t see as how my bis’ness matters much to a stranger.” “ But it does to me, Mr. Brown. The fact is, I want to do a little business in your line. I m not a betting man, as a rule, but I want to back Ribbon for the November Handicap. What odds can you give against two pdunds ?” The landlord appeared at this moment. I saw his reflection in a glass over the mantel piece a little to my right He was rubbing his chin with his finger and thumb, and grinned at Matt as if he would say, “He’s a fraud; have a care!” “ I can’t give no odds, guv’nor. You’d bet ter go to the races and bet your money in the ring. You’re too mighty respectable-lookin’, with that stuffed umberel’an’all, to catch an old bird with chaff,” and, leaning forward, he laughed in away which told me very plainly my plan had failed. Of course I protested that Mr. Brown misun derstood me. He only laughed the more, and I left, expressing a hope that we should arrive at a better understanding the next time I want ed to do business with him. Alter leaving the public house, I made my way to High Holborn, and through Russell Square and Guilford street into Gray s Inn road. Near the latter thoroughfare there lived a friend of mine, in whose house I deposited my umbrella, my overcoat and silk hat, as I had left other disguises on former occasions. When I camo out ot the house I was considera bly altered in appearance. Detectives know pretty well how much the costumer hae to do with deciding the genteel or the rough appear ance ot the man. During the evening I learned a great deal about Matt Brown. I passed a few words with the constables I found on duty in different lo calities about Drury lane, and made inquiries at Bow street police station. From all I learned only that Mr. Brown gave the police very little trouble, yet be was generally regard ed as a thoroughly bad character. The’esti mate appeared to be unreasonable when com pared with the little direct evidence on which it was based. The next day I devoted to a tour among the dealers in second-hand goods, who are rather numerous m the locality. My purpose was to find, if I could, any ot the articles -the “nick nacks”—Mr. Bowles had lost. But mv search was utterly fruitless. I set that down to the fact that dealers do not immediately exhibit goods they may have acquired under question able circumstances. In one place which I enteftd I found quite a collection, of pipes, cigar-holders, cigar cases, tobacco-boxes, and other articles that are considered necessary in a smoker’s com plete outfit. These goods were of all sizes, all patterns, and nearly all colors. There was so much variety, pattern, and material among them that they appeared to have been collected from a number of different countries, and to have endured even more than tho average wear and tear before reaching their present destina tion. There was some sameness among the cigar cases only, and as I was specially interested in cigar-cases 1 asked the grimy-looking proprietor of the shop if he could show mo anytldng a little more off the common. After some haggling, he said he had a few more, and he brought them to me from an inner room. One was a rough looking affair, indeed. It was made of un tanued skin, from which the hair had not been removed. A rudely-formed silver medalion was on the front, and tbe clasp was of silver. I liked it as a curiosity, and bought it at a high price, feeling satisfied that I had secured a bar gain in the very ineligant-looking thing. In re reply to my inquiry as to when he had bought the article, the dealer replied he could not ex aetly remember, but it had been in his posses sion a long time. I allowed lhe next day to pass while prose cuting my inquiries. Among other things 1 learned that Malt Brown frequently stayed from home until late at night or until the morn ing had completed its earliest hours. On the following day I called at tbe public house near Drury lane' once more, and entered the smoking-room, in which I found Matt alone in his glory. “ Well, Mr. Brown,” I said, “ will you do business with me to-day ?” “ Helio, guv nor !- is it you ?” he exclaimed. "I’d hardly know you, now. You look more like a bis’nese man, I must say, without your long coat, an’ top hat, an’old woman's umbrella. But 1 don’t think we can do that kind of busi ness together, all the same. ’ “Well, I must say you’re a strange man ” 1 said. “ Can’t you make a bet with me just’ as far as a sovereign ?” “No. dear boy, it won’t do,” he said, raising his hand as il to repel my proposal, while he NEW YORK DISPATCH, FEBRUARY 6, 1887. : loaned back in the chair and laughed aloud, i “ I’m off bia’neas just now, guv’nor,” ho con tinued, “and I can’t bet a shilling.” “ Well, will you take a glass with me ? I asked. “ No, thank you all the same. I’ve got enough hore,” he replied. “ Well, a smoke ? I’ve got a nice cigar.’ “ You re such a pressin’ lellow, I don’t mind if I do. I likes my pine, but I can always take a cigar from a friend.” I drew from my pocket the rough-looking cigar-caso I had purchased two days earlier, and put it in his hand. Soon as his glance rested on the article, all the hilarity vanished out of his face as if by magic. Ho looked at it a few moments intently, turning it over mechanically, and then looked up at mo with au attempt to resume his habitual smile, but with tho keenest questioning in his eyes. “ Thia is a curious thing,” he said. “ Yes, you don’t soe many like that,” I re plied. “it has had some wear, but you see it’s good for service yet.” “ Oh, ay, it’s good enough for many a year. Did you make it yourself?—or whore did you get it ?” he asked. “ No, I didn’t make it. I bought it.” “ Well, it’s not very pretty, but it’s useful,” he remarked, handing it back to me. “ But will you not try a cigar ?” I asked. “ No, thanks ; I’ll stick to my pipe still.” I lo.t the room almost immediately afterward; but I had contrived to see Matt Brown a little more at his ease. I was now satisfied that the burglar at High gate and Mat Brown were one. The cigar-case was one of tbe articles of Australian manufac ture which had been stolen from Mr. Bowles’s trunk, and which ho had been particular in de scribing, and the effect its appearance produced on Mr. Brown fully established his guilt in my mind. A constable in plain clothes was waiting for me outside. I gave him instructions to watch tho public-house closely, and to follow Matt Brown should he como out before I returned. I procured from Bow street two men to secure the man, of whoso guilt I felt assured, and in leas than a quarter of an hour he was arrested in tbe room and in the chair where I had left him. , , , There rs nothing more to add. Brown s lodg ings were searched, and nearly all the stolen property, less fifteen sovereigns, was found there. The man from whom 1 had bought tho cigar-case failed to fully identify Brown as the man from whom he had received it; but his evidence was not essential. The big, powerful Matt Brown was tried at the ensuing assizes, and is now expiating hia orime by serving ten years in penal servitude. I learned afterward that Mr. Bowles proposed to Mary Drew, who shrank from his advances at first, but subsequently consented to become his wi:e. They were married and went to Aus tralia together, where, I can only hope, they are still living happily. HER COM lilt BY 0. EMMA CHENEY. “How would ‘Margaret’ do?” “Oh, that would soon degenerate into ‘ Mag gie ’ or ‘Madge.’ “Well, it would please George’s mother to call tho baby ‘Jane ’ for her,” I said. “That has the same disadvantages,” answered Cousin Fanny, who, to tell the truth, thought no name good enough for tbe scrap of humanity that had come to gladden her heart. “1 won’t have her dubbed ‘Hazel,’or ‘Maud,’ or ‘Eva,’ ” exclaimed Cousin George, coming into tbe discussion, and both father and mother re sented the suggestion of “Gladys” as utterly heathenish. It was settled at last that the baby should be called by my name. The thought gave me real pleasure, and Hooked forward to the day when she should write it out for herself—“ Alice Hol land Warren.” Iu the meantime the child had kept on grow ing until she was almost old enough to choose a name for herself. In the interval ot indecision we called her “ Dot,“ so that it now seemed hard to change. It was about this time that Cousin George’s maiden aunt came unannounced, to pay a visit of indefinite duration. To speak charitably of Miss Chubbuck, she was peculiar. Although she was a sore trial to us all, Fanny was too loyal to George to complain ol his aunt, and, as Fanny’s cousin, it did not become me to find fault with her husband’s guest. George did growl a little now and then, but that was his privilege. Oddly enough, Dot was really lond of the wo man, who, despite her freakme’ss, was uniform ly gentle to the child. The two would spend whole mornings together in ths park, or Miss Chubbuck would push the baby’s phaeton about the streets of the shady town for hours together, even though she called herself an in valid. It Cousin Eva ever felt concern at the absence ot her darling, she held her peace. Of course, Fanny was not influenced by mercenary or interested motives in her conduct toward her auut. It is true Miss Chubbuck was re puted immensely nob, and having quarreled wiih all her other kinsfolk, it would seem proper and right that, when the time came, Fanny's forbearance should be rewarded. At times tbe old woman seemed inspired with devices for exasperating everybody who came in contact with h'er. But her crowning success was the avowed purpose of saddling her own name upon the baby—not alone “ Meek ness,’ which was her Christian name, and a sad misnomer, but actually “Meekness Chubbuck” —and in return the poor child was to bo made her aunt’s sole heir. Fanny was unwilling to vex the old soul, who was getting feeble and infirm, so she did not say squarely that it could never be. She only smiled, and to keep the peace did not forbid Aunt Meekness to call the baby “Chubby,” intending to arrange it all her own way when occasion offered. George, however, failed to share his wife's philosophy, and resolved to end discussion by summary measures. “ Let us have a christening party, Fan, and have it out,” he said one day, feeling especially irritated on the subject. “h e need not give it out, but just invite our friends for a merry making, and have the baby christened.” “I’m afraid it will offend Aunt Meekness,” Fanny answered, dubiously. “I will relieve you of all responsibility on that score, little woman,” said George; “ but upon my word I can't see that result in tho light of a calamity.” “And we could send for Doctor and Mrs Ma ples," I interposed, knowing that Fanny would wish her old pastor to officiate at tho baptism of her child. “Yes, of course,” George agreed; “Mr. Bai ley is so newly come to this parish that he couldn’t feel slighted, and hois so deaf ” “I don’t suppose Mr. Bailey knows the baby by sight even, said Fanny, trying to enter cor dially mto the scheme which in her heart she did not quite approve. “ Well, well, fix all that to suit yourselves, but mind, Fan, not one word to Aunt Meekness about the object ot the party, for she’ll make things lively if she gets hold of it,” and George kissed his wife’s cheek byway of sealing the compact. The day was fixed, and we set about writing our invitations. Then there was the black cake to be made and set away to “ripen,” and the whole house to bo freshened for the occasion. With my own hands I made a gown for my dear little namesake to wear. I caused to be en graved with her name and mine a christening bowl ot solid silver, which was an heirloom that I dearly prized; but nothing was too good for her who would always keep it in memory of that happy day. But our ancient guest liked not at all the idea of being “overrun with company.” As soon as the plan was broached to her, to our immense satisfaction she expressed her intention of pay ing a visit to an old friend in the city—neces sarily an “old ’ friend, since her present state ot mind precluded the possibility of making now ones. On the day previous to that fixed for her journey, she took the baby on one of the long excursions of which both were so fond. As the morning wore on I noticed that Fanny oast many a wistful glance down the village street though ebe expressed no anxiety and I felt none. It was very late when we descried Miss Chubbuck’s green vail, which she wore in the same fashion as when forty years before it had carefully concealed her girlish charms from prying eyes. By her side trotted our tired lit tle girl, her hands full of new toys and her flushed and happy face almost as soiled as her frock. “It is too bad!” exclaimed poor Fanny, as shading her eyes with her hand, she watched them. “ I know that child will be ill to pay for this," she wont on, betrayed out of her usual caution by tho sight of her pet’s demoralized appearance. “ Why, Aunt Meekness,” she cried, her bot tled excitement fairly bursting its bounds “ where have you been? I have been worried to death about you I” “ I am not a child, to get into mischief Frances Warren,” replied the old woman grim ly, and marched off without another word to her own quarters, thereby giving “ George’s wile ” to understand thatsbe had taken an unwarranta ble liberty. As a natural consequence of so much fatigue and ill temper, the next day Miss Chubbuck was too ill to leave her room. I for one was glad to have her stay in it, though the prospect ot her departure before the party was most uncertain. Her demands upon her niece'were by no means relaxed, but Tildy and I managed to make the jellies and cakes and tarts, as well as loads of other good things with which country-folk re gale their friends on festive occasions. George filled the great vases on tho parlor mantel with gorgeous dahlias, and gay flowers adorned the cottage wherever space afforded the oppor tunity. At length the day came. Doctor and Mrs Maples arrived on the morning train, and it re quired no little maneuvering to keep them from coming in contact with Miss Chubbuck;. for Fanny would not permit us to solicit their con nivance at keeping our secret Luckily, al though she was quite convalescent, Aunt Meek ness kept her room. 1 never saw Cousin George in such spirits He looked forward to the final move which was to checkmate h;s aunt, and perhaps cause her to take up her abode elsewhere. But if he dared to hope so much, he never ventured to liint his inhospitable wishes to his wile, who was faithful to her guest under every emer geuqy. When the company had arrived, Fan l egged her husband to ask Aunt Meekness to c»ime in, at least to the christening. “There can be no barm done now,” gfa, coaxed, when he stoutly resisted her entreaty, “ and she will leel so hurt if wo do not tell lior beforehand.” Thus overpersuaded, George yielded—not with a very good grace—and reluctantly made his way to the chamber of his unsuspecting aunt. “ Aunt Meekness,” he began, “ we have a lit tle surprise lor our friends to-night, and Fanny thought you ought to enjoy it with us. Aren’t you able to come out a little while ?” “I hate surprises," she replied, uncompro misingly. “Well,” George answered, with a ieeling of relief, as he afterward confessed, “you can do as you please about it, but wo are going to have the baby baptized. Dr. Maples has come up from tho city and everything is arranged.” “ You need not have taken all that trouble, George Warren.” she said, coldly, “lor I had her christeued decently long ago.” There was a dead silence for a moment, and then the woman went ou : “I got tired of dilly-dallying, so I took her over to the church, and’ Mr. Bailey soon settled the matter.” “Did he dare baptize my child without my authority ?” roared Gleorge, “ I said nothing at all about you. He was so deaf that I could not make him hear a word I said; so I wrote the name on the fly-leaf of a prayer-book, and be baptized her without any words. I cannot abide the fool names that girls have nowadays, and to put a stop to any more nonsense I named her ‘ Meekness Chubbuck ’ — no more, no less.” George was speechless. Grave doubts of his aunt’s sanity crossed his mind. Fanny had en tered in time to hear the concluding sentence. Putting the sentence, “I named her Meekness Chubbuck,” with tho look of awful wrath on her husband’s face, she guessed the truth. Fear for Miss Chubbuck’s personal safety alone kept her from swooning. After another ominous pause, George left the room precipitately. “ That’s all the thanks I get for my trouble,” said Aunt Meekness, sharply. “Of course, I expect to leave my prop’ty where my name goes, and I did look for some gratitude after making myself down-sick to do a favor for other folks’ children. But that is the way of tho world I” she sighed, rooking to and iro dis consolately. Fanny was touched, and rallying her own sinking heart, she replied, sweetly : “ Wo do appreciate your kind motives, Aunt, and George' did not mean to be ungracious. You know his heart was set upon calling our little girl for Cousin Alice—and —and—oh, we do thank you for all you had in your heart for the baby I” sobbed poor Fan, fairly breaking down. “ Humph !” snorted the angry godmother. Fanny returned to her guests, pale with sup pressed emotion. I, who knew where she had been, guessed that there had been a scene, but was unprepared for the truth, when Cousin George whispered to her : “ She’ll leave this house to-night, or I am not master in it I” “Ob, no, dear! she will go herself, soon; and you will bo the sin of disrespect to ago.” “ Age be hanged 1 I'll teach her to repay our hospitality in this way I” “ But, George, she meant well. What possi ble advaatage could accrue to her from giving her name and h»r money to our ohild ?” “ Fan, 1 do believe yofl are glad of the whole thing in your heart, for the sake of that con founded property I” “Oh, George I” and poor Fanny’s tone was conclusive evidence ot her non-oomplicity in the plot. Scarcely had Fanny left Miss Chubbuck when Doctor Maples was summoned to tho invalid’s chamber, where tho whole story was rehearsed from the standpoint of a martyr. Indeed, tlie evening was not half over before the whole company was confidentially made aware of it, with the understanding that after all it was an arrangement with Cousin Fanny, for the con sideration that her child should inherit her aunt's property. It was a bitter disappoint ment, but there was no redress. After repeated postponements, Miss Chub buck’s journey was finally abandoned. Under Fanny’s gentle ministrations, she rallied again. Her tender love for tho little girl whom she had so wickedly wronged was her one redeeming virtue, and lor that alone, I believe, her neph ew retrained from ordering her to leave the house, which had been so sunny before she en tered it. The following Summer I crossed the sea. In Fanny’s frequent letters she always piously mentioned that Miss Chubbuck was not so well as usual, or perhaps more comfortable, as the case might be—as if I cared to know I At length there came an interval of silence, which gave me groat anxiety. Then followed a brief note from Cousin George, which ran thus : “ Dear Cousin Alice : Fanny is used up. Aunt Meekness died on the 9th, insolvent. Our little girl received in her name the only inherit ance which her great-aunt had to bestow! Though, to do tho poor body justice, I really believe she was not aware of her financial ruin until a short time before her death. Fanny is so terribly cut up about the whole thing, poor girl, that I cannot tell her it serves her right. Can you not como home soon ? Fanny says you never misjudged her. It would cure her to see you, and the baby misses yon sadly, as well as “ Your Cousin, George.” I did not need a second invitation. That was long ago. I still occupy Aunt Meekness’s pret ty room, and Chubbie calls me “ Aunty,” but I flatter myself I am not tolerated for my “ prop erty.”— Chicago Saturday Herald. ANTiDOIFFOB CANCER. A REMEDY WITHIN 'tHE REACH OF ALL. (from the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette.) About thirty years ago, a woman belonging to tho middle walks of life, suffering with cancer, was pronounced beyond their skill by the phy sicians of Shrewsbury Infirmary, England, the tumor being in such close proximity to the jugular vein that, rather than risk the imperil ling of her life, they deemed it best not to un dertake so grave an operation. Straightway after this announcement was ' made, she returned to her home, which was three miles from Oswestey, the nearest railway station in the county of Montgomery, North Wales. Here she became a greater sufferer, when one day she bethought herself of a neigh bor, whom she soon found, and with all the eloquence of one enthralled by an implacable foe, she appealed to her sympathy. “If it were possible,” she implored, “do, do something to assuage my pain.” With that tendernes land willingness charac teristic of every true and noble woman to allay her sister’s many pains, tins frieud, for she prftved a friend in need and deed, forthwith sent her boys (one of whom is our informant) to gather what in the United States is known as sheep sorrel; by tbe people of England as “ sour leaf or the cuckoo plant;” in the Welsh language, to tbe people of North Wales, as “ dail surlon y gog.” To this timely opportu nity, and the efficacy of this herb as an anti dote for cancer, this, our sufferer, is in a large measure indebted for her health and life to-day, while not tho slightest vestige ot the hitherto unconquerable disease is to be found. Tho leaves were wrapped in brown paper bo tight as to make the pack impervious to air. This package was then placed beneath an open grate, covered with the hot ashes of the same. When sufficiently cooked it was removed, and in as hot a state as possible and not burn, it Was now applied, the leaves being in direct contact with the ulcer, which was firmly held to the part affected by a linen handkerchief. Strange to say, at the expiration of one month the tumor came away and has not since ap peared. For the first four days the pain was most excruciating, but gradually decreased as it became loosened. Thera is much to be said in favor of this method over the knife. The nature of its drawing power in tho form of poul tice, though at first very severe, still is gradual and sure, while new blood rushes into the vacuum, caused by removal, thus serving as a fitting helpmeet lor aiding and stimulating na ture's efforts, and in the meantime the arteries which feed this foil destroyer are given a greater impulse to move rapidly, flow healthy and strengthening the weaker parts as fast as it egresses. In this connection it is to be observed that this method has none of the accompanying after-weakening effects as caused by loss of blood so frequently exhibited under the opera tion of the knife, while the chances of a thor ough extirpation are far more sanguine as to a thread remaining than that of a surgical opera tion, which many fear and object to. For those parte not admitting of poultice we submit another formula for the same herb as applied by this same benefactress in somewhat different cases. A piece of flat iron or steel is obtained with at least one bright and smooth face. On this the leaves are placed, which, in turn, is placed on top of the stove or within the oven until the leaves are thoroughly cooked, whence they are removed and spread on a piece of linen in tho same way as any other home-made plaster. When cool enough, with sufficient heat not to burn, it is then applied, and, our informant states, was productive of the same beneficent result. A WHO INSISTS THAT ALL NON SENSE MUST BE STOPPED. There is a town in Idaho struggling for fame, called Beef Gap, a unique and forcible name. They have just elected as City Marshal a gen tleman who is commonly known as “Onion Bill.” The aforesaid Bill is no slouch. He is a brick of gold. On assuming the duties of his office he issued the following highly interesting pronunciamento : On and after this date there will be in thia town— No more compelling people to drink when they don’t feel like it. No more shooting of plug hats. No more drinking of whisky out of bottles when the bars are open. No more noisy deviltry. Any man riding or driving a horse into a pub- 1 lie bar will be shot. Any man raking down the pot at poker, with- • out the cards to back it up, will be shot dead. It is the determination of the new adminis tration to usher in an era of reform, and all good citizens will array themselves on the side of the law. All others will be turned over to ■ the coroner. It will be observed that Onion Bill makes the undue raking in of a pot a higher misdemeanor than riding a horse into a barroom. There will be no more fooling around in Beef Gap. Hero is a very pathetic story of THE BARBER’S WOOING. “O Barbara!” tho barber sighed, •' This scissor time to speak; If you won’t be my hone true bride I'll die without a squeak. •« O Dan Draff, don’t,” the po’made screamed, " Do such a wig-head act; It would be barber-ous. I dreamed. Of you,” she smiled with tact. ** Look oup and brush your tears; 1 O comb and be a man; Lot’s soap I'll be your bride some day. " I will, but if,” cried Dan. «• You razor hope you will dispel, There’ll beard death, you'll see; And if there’s scrape on my door-boll My chair will empty be.” «'I do not shampoor fellow,” said Miss Barbara, perplexed; Oil though when your first wife is dead, You’ll quickly cry for ‘ Next 1’ ” The young lady was right in getting fright ened at THE HORRIBLE THOUGHT. They wore out sleigh-riding together, and their thoughts and conversation turned on the subject which usually agitates the minds of young people under those circumstances. •‘George, dear,” she murmured, "will you always love me ?” ‘•Yes, indeed, I will,” he replied, ‘‘even after we're married. And will you always retain your present feelings toward mo?” •• Always, George.” "Ah, there are so many things that might happen which would make your affection less warm. Sup pose I should meet with some accident —one which would leave me disfigured for life ?” •• It would never make the slightest difference.” •• But suppose I should meet with a railroad acci dent (which, being, a traveling man, I am very likely to do) and lose a leg or an arm, would .” ‘•An arm, George, an arm 1 Oh, dearest, let us talk of something else.” And George dropped the subject and proceeded to demonstrate that up to date his arms were just as good as any to be found. Carl Dander has recovered somewhat from tho effects of tho swindles which have been per petrated on him, and he has taken to philoso phizing about matters in general, YOOST LIKE IT VAS IN SHERMAN. Dor poor houses vhas full of peoples who pelief dot to-morrow vhill bring ’em luck. No man can buy der constitutional rights of another, but maypo you can lick him und make him afraid to exercise ’em. Der older I vhas der more I pelief dot young folks vhas pecoming wery foolish und doan’ appreciate sometings. If I like to get oop a quarrel between neighbors I doan* hint aboudt riches or greatness or intelli gence. I shuet make oudt dot one woman’s bonnet cost der most. If somepody vhas porn mil der feeling dot dis world vhas created for him he vhill shlip oop al most eafory day. No man takes oop more space as four cabbages. It vhas awful good if you can forgif your ene mies, but some mans haf a great deal more respect for you if you vhas a hardt kicker. Charity vhas a great and good thing, but vhen we make oafercoats for der shildren of Afrlc* and doan’ buy some flannels for our own family mayps wo hadt better shtop a leedle. When a poy vhas whistling he can’t fix oop some vhay to shteal my grapes or carry off my gate. It has taken some men fifty years of hardt work to roach a position in which dey shall haf der abuse of der public for der remainder of deir days. People should cultivate a happy expression of countenance. If you meet a man mit a grin on his face you doan’ suspect dot he hadt a fight mit his wife only fife minutes pefore, or dot his furniture vhas to be sold py a shattel mortgage. Go a leetle slow. Nopody can boil eggs In cold water. It vhas petter to be at der tail-end of der procession dan to shlip down at der front and let somepody vhalk all oafer you. I vhas took notice dot eafery mans haf his weak ness. Before we pitch into him pecause he falls, lot us consider how it vhas dot we shtand oop. I doan’ pring oop some shildren myself, but I can tell my friends oxactly how dey should pring oop deirs. If I want some advice I go mit a lawyer und pay for it, und der more de sharge me for it, der more apt I vhas to pelief it vhas good. No one will deny that the young gentleman was right when he thought HE REGRETTED BEING PRESENT. Two friends in a car were speaking of a brilliant wedding which had taken place at Judge Bogley’s the night before, when one of them said: •• I had an invitation, but did not avail myself of it. I regret now that I did not go.” A man who had taken no part in the conversation remarked: ••I attended a wedding at the judge’s once, and regret that I did go.” •• Were you 'not well treated ?” “Oh, yes.” “ Why, then, did you regret having gone ?” “Because, on the occasion, I married one of the judge’s daughters,” Tho Lewioton (Mo.) Journal relates this very HAPPY RETORT BY A YANKEE. When Mr. William Atkinson, the farmer philoso pher of .Somerset county, was about to start on his mission to Quebec, in the interest of the Wiscasset and Kennebec Railroad scheme, he said to Gov. Bodwell: “ Mr. Bodwell, had I better put on a tall hat and stick up, or go just as I am, in this woolen shirt and paper collar?” •‘ Go just as you are,” replied Mr. Bod well. “It isn’t the clothes we want to send, but the man un der ’em.” So Mr. Atkinson wore his every-day clothes to Quebec. And at Augusta, Tuesday, in his flannel Shirt and paper collar and slouch fiat, this wonder ful man, with a head more crammed with miscel laneous facts and odd conceits than any other head in Maine, entertained me greatly with an account of his stay in quaint old Quebec. He told me how j he dined with the titled aristocracy of the city and handed their fine ladies out to dinner, in his flannel ' shirt and paper collar—how he discussed poetry and scenes in ioreign lands with the literati, and 1 astonished the doctors of divinity with what h© ’ had picked up about theology. Mr. Atkinson is a man with an iron memory. He can quote passages from tho poets, tell you the date of any historical event, or demonstrate a prob lem Of Euclid with equal facility. He acquired it , , all by sitting on tb<? dye-pot by fire-irons of his mother’s kitchen, and by burning the oil of night in his own farm library. The mental possessions 1 of the Maine farmer, in his flannel shirt and paper collar, must have taken by surprise the learning of university-filled Quebec. But the best part of Mr. Atkinson’s narrative was i his dramatic story of his visit to the citidel. i "An officer,” said he, “detailed a man to show me around, and he took me everywhere. Noticing a small black cannon, half hidden by the snow, as I was about to go, I said, in iun, * I guess I’ll take it away with mo.’ " 'Go look at the inacription on the breech,’ said the soldier, laughing. “I looked and read : •••Taken at the battle of Banker Hill, Jane 17, 1775.’ “I saw the soldier had mo. It stirred my blood, and I wanted to make a fit reply. I read the in scription over again to gain time. Tears came into my eyes. “‘Young man,’l said to him, ‘you’ve got the cannon, but we’ve got Bunker Hill.’” Who could blame thia girl for being indig nant at HER LOVER’S WANT OF APPRECIATION. I kissed her hand. She slapped my check, The blow came sharp and quick. Her eyes snapped fire. She did not speak. My blood grew hot and thick. ••What do you mean ?” I asked, enraged, "We’re all alone here, and You know quite well that we’re engaged, Then why not kiss your hand ?” “I do detest a man,” she snapped, ••Who'll kiss my finger-tips. In love's ways one should be more apt— Else what’s the use of lips ?” Dakota must be a terrible place to live in if this story is reliable. It ie vouched for by the San Bernardino (Cal.) Times as being SOLIDLY THUE. A Times reporter struck a real, live Dakota man yesterday, iresh from Blizzardom. The D. M. was thawing himself out in the sun in front of the St Charles Hotel, and remarked, as the reporter came along; •• Got a reg’lar Dakota boom here, haven’t you ? I reckon I’ll invest in a number of town sites. A fellow can make genuine sales here. Back in Dakota we map out stupendous schemes, get lithographs of an imaginary town and sell lots in the Winter. You see we lay out a town on the prai rie somewhere, and then let out a lot of bogus con tracts for putting up big hotels and stores, and for supplying lumber, brick, men. teams, etc., and then we tell would-be buyers what a scene of activity there will be when the snow goes off. Of course every one is anxious to buy a lot at four hundred dollars (two hundred dollars down) before the snow melts, and so the lots are disposed of. Of course the hotels and such things are never put up •• Why, bless you, my boy, the acreage of wheat would be tripled in Dakota if it wasn’t for the fact that our barren, blizzard-kissed prairies are laid off into town lots, the only improvements on which are a few surveyors’stakes. Cold? Did you ask if it was cold? Why, only two weeks ago I raised my window to throw my wad of tobacco out and the wind carried my hat out. It cost six dollars, but it was too darned cold to go after it. Suddenly a bright idea struck mo. I raised the window and took a pitcher of water and poured it on to the hat. What good did that do? Don’t you see? The stream froze solid into along icicle, which I drew up, band over hand, and got my hat. Fact.” "Pretty good scheme,” innocently remarked the reporter. "Good scheme? Naw! I’ve been kicking my self ever since about it. Why, sir, I had that win dow open just two minutes and a half, and in that time enough cold came in to freeze up and ruin oyer S4OO worth of choice plants I had in the house. I got so mad that I came to California, and I’m going to stay here.” And the Dakota man gave a sigh of relief as he felt himself to make sure that the ice had all melted out of his blood vessels. The following incident is related by the San Francisco Chronicle, That paper is of the opin ion that GOOD MOTHERS WOULD LIKE TO READ IT. She goes to school, and she belongs to an educa tional family of prominence, who have lately moved from San Francisco for ofllcial convenience So she has had to go to a new school. The first day she found that, contrary to her experience, boys ' and girls were together in this school. That of fended her, and when she went home she com plained. ■‘ Mamma, that’s not a good school. I don’t think I’ll like to stay there.” . “Why?” " There are boys and girls all together there. It isn’t pleasant.” •• Well, ruy dear, try it a little anyway.” The next day she came home in a better humor " Do you like the new school any better ?” ' 1 “Oh. yes, mamma. The teacher has put the love- 1 Host little boy next to me. a lovely little bov *' I th irk I shall like the J ’ j. The third day she came home in the wildest of spirits, beaming all over. " Oh, mamma ! I know all the boys In the school now!” This is one of those sad stories that good mothers like to read, so lam told, and I’ve no reason to doubt it. The wife was perfectly right in being in dignant at WILLIAM’S MISTAKE. “Ob, you good-for-nothing wretch!” exclaimed Big William's wife, as she reached her hand out of bed and felt for Vile cradle to see if the baby was there. •• Whash 'er matter?” murmured Big, as he turned in his sleep. "Matter enough!” Ough, you t Wake up and go down stairs and bring baby up here this minute.” “ Did bring him up. •’ He’ah in the cradle.” “No such thing. You’ve drank too much hard cider. You wrapped the Christmas turkey in baby’s blankets and rocked it to sleep in the cradle, you wretch, and baby is down stairs on the sofa catching cold.” SCINTILLATIONS. “ The course of true love never runs smooth,” so we may depend upon always having friction matches. Before the wedding day she was dear and he was her treasure, but afterward she became dearer and he treasurer. A credulous English paper gravely asserts that western grasshoppers are put up in this country for French sardines. An ordinary small boy is never so happy as when he is standing under a safe that is being hoisted to the fourth story. Neal Dow is lecturing on “How to Gat Ahead.” We suppose he recommends a combi nation of Bass ale and Rhino wino. Palmistry is not such a new craze; we have known mon to sit around a table for hours try ing to find out about each other’s hands. Whitrock gave up the coal business to co into tho train-robbing industry. The transition was easy, from a light-weightman to highwayman. Fannie—-“ You forgot my birthday, Jack.” Jack—“l thought it was on the first of April.” Fannie—" Many persons think so when they see my husband.” 'Hie pen may be mightier than the sword, but the present condition of affairs in Europe goes to show that the machine-gun has the call on the type-writer. “Yes,” says Jenkina, “I am one of those fellows that can drink or Ist it alone. When I am where it is I can drink; when I am where it is not I can let it alone.” She—“ Yes, we had a splendid time last Summer. Four other Vassar girls and I took a tramp through the Adlrondacks.” He—" Did the tramp have a good time ?” “My dear,” said a testy wife to her husband, "I never stand upon "ceremony.” “It would be bad for ceremony if you did,” said hub by, glancing furtively at her No. s’s o It is estimated that thirty thousand women Could ind husbands Inside of a fortnight in Wyoming and Montana Territories, and why the procession doesn’t move is a mystery. Employer—“ James, here is a letter for you from ths Dead Letter office.” James, in agony—" Then it’s from my son. He’s bin sick for weeks, and I’ve bin expectin' this every day.” A Chicago business man worth half a million dollars married tho female cashier in his store the other day. The manner in which she got thirteen cents for a shilling every time hit him. This is the season that inspires the red-nosed man with confidence. He can blame the warmth of color on the weather, and those who don't know his habits will sometimes believe him. “Does hanging prevent murder ?” is a question which agitates an Eastern State. Yon bet it does. Cases are very rare where a man com mits murder after he has been hung once or twice. “I’m afraid it’s not genuine,” saida lady to a shopman. "Oh. yes, it is, madam,” re plied the polite gentleman. " All our camel-hair shawls are made of pure silk, direct from the worm.” The new City and County Clerk at San Francisco has erected the following sign: "Lady applicants for position will please weep in the ante-room, as the clerk suffers greatly from damp feet, “Did you ever try a toboggan ?” asked Tom Reed of Hon. Frank Lawlor. "No,'’ re plied Frank, scornfully. " I don't believe in them fancy drinks. I always take mine plain und old ' fashioned.” Science says that a body weighing 100 ■ pounds on earth would weigh two tons on the planet Jupiter. Just think of the sufferings of an i inhabitant of Jupiter who had eaten a piece of wedding cake ! Mrs. Mulvaney—Arrah, Jamesy, phy do yez put two thermoney tors forninstthe shtore ?” Shaunossy—Bo gobs, Missus Mulvaney, wan av them is to tell how hot it is, an’ tho other to tell j how cowld it is. “Have you ever sat upon an inquest?” asked the coroner of a cowboy. “ Betcber life I hev, stranger,” was the ready answer. “And what kind of a verdict did you bring in ?” " A charge of murder against the doctor.” The cashier in a business house in New York finds that the fpllpwing notice, posted in front of hia deak. serves a useful purpose: •‘Nover L address your conversation to a person j U adding figures, There ja nothing eq Seal as an adder.” 6 Mrs. Mulhooly (t<j drug store clerk)— “ That porous pblaater tho. faz sold me for me ould man was nigh killin’ hint. Ho couldn't get tne ’ tooth av him t'roo it at all till I fried it, an’ thin it 1 wa’n’t touch Uhderor, an' he's far from well in ■ shplto av it.” i Woman (to tramp)—“ You might saw ; a little wood for that nice dinner. Tramp (reproach fully)—“ Madam, you ought not to throw tempta tion in the way of a poor Woman—“Temp I tation ?” Tramp—•• Yes, madam. If I were to saw some wood, the chances are that I would cirry off the saw. I’m an honest man now, and I want to > stay bo.” AGED BEAUTIES. ; — i Historical Women who Were Fascinat ; ing Though Not Young. f (From the American Register.) History is full of tbs accounts of the fascina tion of women who were no longer young. Thus, Helen of Troy, was over forty when she ’ perpetrated the most famous elopement on ree , ord, and, as tho siege of Troy lasted a decade, , she could not have been verv juvenile when the ill-fortune ot Paris restored her to her husband, who is reported to have received her with un questioning love and gratitude. Pericles wed ded the courtesan Aspasia when she was thirty . six, and yet she afterward, for thirty years or more, wielded an undiminiahed reputation for beauty. Cleopatra was past thirty when Antony i fell under her spell, which never lessened until her death, nearly ton years after, and Livia was , thirty-three when she won tho heart of Augus tus, over whom she maintained her ascendency to the last. Turning to more modern history, where it is possible to verify dates more accurately, we have the extraordinary Do Poictiere, who was thirty-six when Henry H.—then Duke of Or leans, and just halt her age—became attached to her, and she was held as the first lady and tho most beautiful woman at court, up to the period of the monarch’s death and the accession to power of Catherine de Modicis. Anne of Austria was thirty-eight when she was described as the handsomest Queen of Europe, and when Buckingham and Bichelieu wore jealous admirers. Ninon de I’Enclos, tha most celebrated wit and beauty of her day, was the idol of three generations of the golden youth of Franco, and she was seventy-two when the Abbe de Beraia fell in love with her. True it is that in tho case of this lady a rare combination of culture, talents and personal attractions endowed their possessor seemingly with the gifts of eternal youth. Louis XIV. married Mme. de Maintenon when she was forty-three years of age. Catherine IT., of Bussia, was thirty-three when she seized the empire of Russia and captivated tho young General Orloff. Up to the time of her death, at sixty-seven, she seemed to have re tained tho same bewitching powers, for the lamentations were heartfelt among all those who had ever known her personally. Mlle. Mars, the celebrated French tragedienne, only at tained the zenith of her beauty and power be tween forty and forty-five. At that period the loveliness of her hands and arms especially was celebrated throughout Europe. The famous Mme. liecamier was thirty-eight when Barras was ousted from power, and she was without dispute declared to be the most beautiful woman in Europe, which rank she held for fifteen years. ADVICE* TO MEN. SECOND WINNING OF YOUR FIRST WIFE. (From Good Housekeeping.) If ever your wife’s honeymoon devotion to you turns cheerless, like the old of the moon, don’t return to your honeymoon treatment ot her; don’t rush home from business at the first possible moment with a basket oi choice fruit, and meet her with a kiss and a caress; don’t i compliment her taste in dress, the neatness of i the sitting-room, nor the appetizing air she has ' breathed in the dining-room. I Put away these boyish habits, and command ' her devotion by bringing home on your face the oloud of a day’s business ; be late about it, too. Then try to find some new fault in her, and don’t let her iorget one of the old set. Taboo her virtues, and praise other women’s. Call her “you,” and if she’s hard at work from six A. M. to ten P. M., growl because she hires the washing done ; and if she dare ask for money, insist on knowing what she did with the twenty five cents you “ gave ”her last week. And then, if she dosen’t prove familiar with ths points and pedigree of your party's candidate for Con gress, laugh at her, and tell her how stupid it would be to let such disinterested creatures , vote 1 i Don’t count sixteen hours a day for you and ' the children anything, but wonder why she doesn’t read the daily papers aud the reviews, and take an interest in politics, art, music, sci ence, history and tho ’• labor” question. Let her split tho kindlings, build the fire, tend the toetlnng baby and broil tho steak ; then, when she cau gat yon up to breakfast, you eit down •eour and grumble till she cries, finding the steak either over-done or under-done, it vou ! have le foU U'lJtU for it, * I If all this “devotion” on your part fails to twine her arms about your neck, lind a lot of fault with her to the children, and, turning your back to her in the evening, perorate yo ir efforts for that day with a glowing eulogy to the beauty, taste, culture aud housekeeping of Smith’s wife. Now, husband, what further excuse can you have lor a chilling time at your own fireside ? EXPOSED BIS TRICK. AN INCIDENT IN PERSIA. The art of medicine, among most Oriental na tions, is in a state of very feeble infancy. As ia natural, -ignorance is supplemented by quack ery, but the latter is not always so readily de tected as in the following incident, told by Dr. Wills, an Englishman residing in Persia. This physician had accepted an invitation to dine at the house of Mirza M Khan, a wealthy gran- dee. The meal had hardly begun when one of the guests, 8 Khan, entered upon a long list ot his ailments, for the benefit oi the English physician. It is the custom in Persia to consult a medical man wherever one is met. This would-be pa tient finally stated that, for the relief of lum bago, ho had been in the habit of inserting a needle beneath the flesh of his back every morn ing, but that, on the previous day, it had disap peared under the skin. The physician, after examining the flesh which 8 Khan had uncovered, told him that it was probable that the needle had been lost, and had never been in his flesh at all. At this the patient was most indignant. “Ah, you Europeans !” ho cried; “you will never believe. Why, Agha Ali, tho surgeon, says it is there, and he is going to extract it by the mouse?* “By the what?” “ The mouse. Don’t you understand that ?’* “ No. What mouse ?” “ Ah, science ! Ah, Europeans I Ho doesn’t understand tho action of the mouse !” A chorus of explanations now brought out tho sunposod fact that a live mouse being bound on the back ot the patient, the needle, by some mysterious process, would leave his flesh and be found in that of tho mouse. “ What kind of a needlo wits it?” asked tha Englishman. The confidential valet produced a packet of ordinary sewing-needles, declaring that no dif , ferent ones were over used for that purpose. Presently the native surgeon mado his ap pearance, and after listening carefully for the > needle with anold sthethoscope, the wrong end of which he applied to tho general's person, > declared thal tho bit of steel was deeply seated. t “ But, pleaso God,” said he, “ by my science, > and by the help of the sainted martyrs, Hous sein and Hassan, I shall remove it.’’ Ho carefully opened a box, and disclosed a poor little mouse tied by tho feet with silken ' threads. The animal, on being touched, gave a squeak ot pain. That sound was a revelation ■ to the Englishman. »- L “ Ah,” he said, “ this is, indeed, a wonderful 1 thing 1 Agha Ali, the surgeons of Persia have 1 in you a burning and shining light; but the trick is old.” At this the native turned pale. “Ob- * serve, my friends. Presto, pass ! 8 Khan, i the needle has left you, and is now in the poor ■ mouse’s body!” Agha Ah sprang up, and would have rushed , away, but he was seized and held, while his box j was opened. A needle was indeed there, pre t viously slipped under the loose skin of tho mouse’s back. It was compared with the others in the Khan’s packet, and found to bo ' half an inch too short. j That tho patient was furious, need scarcely be said. He threatened the frightened surgeon with punishment in full measure, and it was only 1 at ths Englishman’s intercession that the cul prit was spared. ALL FOR CHABITY. * BUT DOING IT WITH HER HUS- BAND’S MONEY. ; (D’om the San Francisco Chronicle.) “ Wbore did you got that watch ?” said her 1 husband, aa she oateutatioualy pulled out a 1 watch aud looked at it. , “I bought it.” “ A Chriatmaa present “No, I bought it for myself. I oouldn t help 1 it. I couldn’t see a poor family starve, and I ■ bought tho woman’a watch.” “Juat like you,” be said. “You’re always ) doing something kind—with my money.” a “ You’r» not mad, John, are you i “No. Let me look at it. What did you give 1 for it ?” “ Forty doliara.” r “Forty dollars and the husband began ox ’ amining it. v “I’ll tell yon how it happened. I was paas l ing along the street and there was an auction going on in a atore.” ’ “An auction. Oh!” j “ Yea, I waa listening and looking, and as I t stood there a poor, distressed man came I He pulled out this watch and he aakoJ **•* “ tioneer if he’d auction it for , wife and lamily ~.m. He said hie 1 old familv ' -o starving and thia waa an 1 VV-” - -’eirloom and be wanted to sell it. >■ -u, the auctioneer bo said he’d sell it, aud ho u put it up, and all they’d bid for it was $7. The n poor follow began to cry. ‘lts worth sloo,’ said he,- ‘ won’t somebody give more than $7 for it ? I can't sell it for that. I’ve bad an offer of $45.’ . And I got mad and sorry for the poor man, and e I bid SB, and somebody bid 19, and I bid $lO, t and finally they got it up to S4O, and I bought it. 0 I’oor fellow I Tho man went olf -quite relieved and happy, and 1 felt so glad that I’d done a good deed at a bargain." ' “ Yes, the poor chap was relieved. I don’t 2 doubt it. This watch is worth $1.75, and that was a mock auction, aud that distressed-looking , man waa a capper lor the establishment. He j does that twenty times a day.” a “Oh, John!” "Just like yon, my dear. Always doing something stupid—with my money.” . Humphreys’" DR. HUMPHREYS’ S' -11 Book of all h H Cloth & Cold Binding B Fages, with Slrel Engraving: * H MAILED FREE. UST OF PRINCIPAL NOS. CURES PRICE. . « Fevers, Congestion, Inflammations... .25 * Worms, Worm Fever, Worm Colic 25 ’ 4 Crying Colic, or Teething of Infants. .25 * 4 Diarrhea, of Children or Adults 25 5 Dysentery, Griping, Bilious Colio 25 « Cholera Morbus, Vomiting 25 7 Coughs, Cold, Bronchitis 25 “ S Neuralgia, Toothache, Faceache 25 ? D Headaches, Sick Headache, Vertigo. .25 _ i mrvryTrrvym— rrw —l-,-y ; HOMEOPATHBO 3 glCgDyspepsia, Bilious Stomach.. ..7.77. .23 Bl IBSuppressed or Painful Periods 25 BS 2-|Whites, too Profuse Periods 25 Jp?lQ roup ’ Cough, Difficult Breathing 25 Bl4|Sa!t Erysipelas, Eruptions.. ,25 3 Rbeiunatic Pains 25, , 1 GlFevcr and Ague. Chills, Malaria 50 3 17iPiles, Blind or Bleeding 50 3 i&lCatarrh, Influenza, Cold in the Head .50 2O| Whooping Cough, Violent Coughs.. .50 i 24|Gcneral Debility,Physical Weakness .50 L 2©iflicrvous Debility 1,00 i 30|L T rinary Weakness, Wetting Bed... .50 1 B 32gDiseases of the Heart, Palpitation.. 1 .OO ; SPECIFI©S„ I 11 v i- '!», w-rn | v< |, v w rw, >iiwnw ■ WIT- Sold by Druggists, or sent postpaid on receipt of price.—IIL'JIPHREYS’MEDICINE CO. 100 Fulton St. N.Y. AN ABSOLUTE CUES For KIDNEY DISEASE, WEAK BACK fIgOSa NERVOUSNESS, RHEUMATISM, DYS PEPSI A. CONSTIPATION, SLEEPLESS- MALARIA, PILES, EPILEPSY, PARALYSIS, MALE AND FEMALK WEAKNESS. It overcomes that tired. /eelincr w/ien not sick, not well, when the system for the want of Va Galvanic Electricity, needs TONE, W . \ STRENGTH and VIGOR. The cut r h ffl 'V • Bbpws the Howard galvanic I a . / J -SHIELD resting over the small of n S the back, it can be placed on any I part of the body and its ACTION I KTTfe/ 73 and CURATIVE EFFECTS ARK R FELT AT ONCE. The results at- (I tained by this appliance at e un- B e precedented in Medical or Electric I ’ij science. We furnish sworn proof \ ot all we claim in our illustrated pamphlet sent free. OST THE HOWARD SHIELD AND SUS PEASORY COMBINED, for men on!y, have no equal on earth in restoring the LOST VIGOR AND STRENGTH OB' MEN and curing all cases of Weakness VARICOCELE AND SEXUAL EXHAUSTION. This a£ pliance meets a want heretoloie never attained. Special pamphlets senton receipt of pcs.ase. AMERICAN GALVANIC CO.. 756 Broadway, New York. Manly Vigor, Weakness or Loss of Memory per. mauently restored by the use of an entirely nev» remedy, The Yerba Santa from Spain. Spanish Trochees never fail. Our illustrated ,32pagebookand sea^ Every man should read it. GBIAEF TKOCHEEfi CO. 9 nDHTi 59 Park. Place* New York. lllnh. tDR. YOUXG’ai ELECTRIC BELTS, as they are worn round the body, a sure cure for Nervous Debility, Weak ness of Body and Mind, Youthful Errors, Loss of Manhood, Weak Back, Kidney \ and Spinal Diseases, Rheumatism. Thera \ is nothing like Dr. Young’s Electric Beit ’and Suspensory combined in the world for restoring lost manhood and impart ling renewed energy and vitality to tha 7 most shattered constitution. Bands tor 7 Female Weakness. Write for book un \ Manly Vigor, free. DR. W. YOUNG, r 260 Hudson street, near Cabal. New York City. Office hours from 10 A. M. t : li . P. M. and by appointment. Call and examine before purchas ing elsewhere. "reHSVsam pills “CHICHESTER’S ENGLISH.’ The Original and Only Genuine. Safe and always Reliable. Beware of worthlens Imitations. Indispensable to LADIES. Ask your Druggist for “Ohiehester’s English” and take no other, or inclose 4c. CT ) to US for particulars in letter by return mall. £ PAPER. Chichester Chemical Co., SSI B Madison Square, Philada., Pa. Sold by Druggists everywhere. Ask for “Chiches* > ERtfUeh” Fetuijrojral i’ill* Take bq oUec* , 7